


Winners use the door

by redletters



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redletters/pseuds/redletters
Summary: When the king and queen of Attolia leave to pay a state visit to Eddis, it doesn't take long for the barons back home to start stirring up trouble.





	Winners use the door

**Author's Note:**

> FOR #13
> 
> TY AS EVER TO THE EXCHANGE MOD FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE!

It was the end of a long afternoon in the last days of summer, when the heat settled low over the megaron like the lid on a pot, and the cool blue sky of Eddis over the mountains was very far away indeed. A trickle of sweat worked its way down Eugenides' back under his robe, and he squirmed ostentatiously on the throne.

The Baron Haplus looked over at him, distracted from his address to Attolia.

"Your Majesty...?"

Eugenides threw his hand in the air. "Continue," he said. He added, in a breath quiet enough to be to himself but loud enough to be heard by the man, "Damned hot."

Baron Haplus looked as if he'd quite like to agree, but despite everything, still couldn't bring himself to side with the foreign interloper.

Attolia inclined her head. "Perhaps we shall consider the matter and return in the morning – when it is cooler," she said, in a pretense of deference to her husband. There was a murmur of laughter from the corners of the court; but everyone was secretly glad that the Eddisian king had called off the throne sitting for the day, and they could return to their rooms and take off their heavy court robes, and have their servants bring them ices.

The queen swept forward without looking back, and her attendants fell into a perfect V behind her, trailing like swans. The king, after lingering for a moment and fidgeting with the high collar of his robe, shrugged his shoulders to no one in particular and followed, alone.

In the queen's chamber, Attolia left her robe in a heap on the floor and went to the basin in her shift, and splashed a handful of water in her face.

" _Thank_ you for getting me out of there," she said. "I thought I was going to melt into a puddle if I had to listen to another recitation of the great deeds of his second son's bastard son."

"Interesting, wasn't it?" Eugenides said. He stuck his head out the door, taking care not to let the attendant see the queen. "Chilled grapes for the queen?" he said to the girl outside.

The girl nodded. "At once, Your Majesty."

"Thank you," Eugenides said. He closed the door. "Now why is Baron Haplus so keen to get his bastard line re-legitimised, is what I wonder? He has three sons already, and two daughters with two more. No need to hog it all from the rest of us." He sounded testy.

"Two sons," Attolia corrected, "Trajan fell ill last year. And his father isn't fond of Perseverus, which is why I think he wants to pick up another possible heir – so he can safely disinherit him without leaving Etrus the only one." She pressed her cheek to the cool stone wall. "Etrus would have made a very good farmer," she said, "but fate made him a baron's eldest son instead."

"Sucks to him," Eugenides said.

The grapes arrived, and a cold damp towel from the ice-box. Attolia took them, and pressed the towel to her face and neck. "That's very thoughtful, Juno," she said. The girl curtsied.

When she had left, Eugenides said, "The question is still – why is the House Haplus so bothered about getting its heirs in order at all?"

***

The next day was the last day of court before the harvest recess, and it went quickly. The barons and courtiers were keen to get back to their landholdings and supervise the gathering, before the plump grapes began to drop and fall, and the fruit over-ripened. Attolia passed judgment on the final petition, an offhanded approval of a baron's daughter marrying a rich _patronoi_ 's son, and looked around the throne room.

Eugenides clapped his hands. "If there are no more court matters –" he started to say, to release the nobles to their rooms and gardens before dinner, but Baron Susa stepped into the centre of the room. The tall man knelt.

"My King," he said.

Eugenides frowned. "Yes?"

"It is known to us that during the harvest time, Your Majesties will be paying a visit to Eddis," the baron said silkily.

Beside him, Attolia twitched a hair of a breath.

"Yes?" Eugenides repeated.

"You will leave us a bereft nation of your royal presences," the baron said, bowing even lower. "I ask, on behalf of the nobles and people who love you so dearly, and love our country – who will be named heir in your absence?"

Attolia let out a slow hiss, so quiet that only Eugenides heard it. _Damn the man._

He kept his voice as pleasant and stupid as he could. "Relius will be regent, you know," he said, "you can direct any matters to him. If, gods forbid, any come up in harvest time! The weighing of a plum, maybe, or the shade of a squash?"

The baron laughed. No one else did. "Of course, My King. But – pardon me – I mean that if any harm should come to Your Majesties while you are – abroad, and unprotected by –"

"It is treason to imagine the death of the monarch," Attolia cut in coolly. "I am sure no one here would do so."

"Relius will be regent," the king repeated thickly. He turned to the queen. "What's the issue?"

"There is no issue, my love," she said, reassuring him. "The baron is simply concerned for our welfare. Your concerns are noted, Baron, and we thank you. Court dismissed."

"Tidily done," Eugenides muttered to his wife as she escorted him to his room, "tidily done indeed."

#

The journey to Eddis took several days, stopping each night to pitch the royal tent. Attolia looked at the destruction around her, from which the soil was still recovering – the deep tracks of cannon treads, the bare ground where fire had burned, the poison from rusted metal – tight-lipped. Eugenides, who had come this way before, and more recently, seemed not to notice. He hummed a brisk Eddisian tune.

The second day, he talked all day about the library. The food they were going to have – a goat's cheese that only aged on one side of the mountain, honey from the palace hives that never left its walls, the best olives. Attolia laughed softly. "We do have cheese in Attolia, husband."

"Not like this cheese," he said confidently.

The third day, he was all concern. Was she sitting easily? Was she well? Did she need anything from Attolia – we could send back men?

They reached the Eddisian border at the crest of the afternoon, when the sun was beginning to settle below the high mountaintops. It would be day for several more hours in Attolia, but the shade was creeping in here.

Eddis met them with a royal delegation at the border, as was the custom. The Attolian soldiers surrendered their arms – with dark looks and some hesitation – to the captain of the Eddisian troops, and were given ceremonial knives instead. Their guns would be out of reach for the rest of the journey. The tradition was to prevent a rogue soldier assassinating a head of state in a foreign land – but Gen couldn't help but think, from experience, that a well-aimed blade could do just as much damage if you put your mind to it. He tried to keep this out of his mind. The guard he'd selected was good and true.

"Gen!" Eugenides tried and failed to duck as he was envelope in an embrace from one brother, then another. The Attolian guards started, then stood back awkwardly, poised between acting to save their king and not wanting to insult their hosts by prying a Prince of Eddis off the King of Attolia. Eugenides' muffled laughter came from within the pile of men, and he emerged with his crown askew.

"At ease," he said to the boy with his hand on his hilt. "They know they're no match for me." He ducked a swing, grinning.

***

At the palace, Eugenides leaped off the royal cart and cleared a space, and carefully handed his wife down. She looked around cautiously.

Irene had been in Eddis before, once when she was a child and once for the queen's coronation. She even liked its queen, very much, whatever Helen might think. But the feeling of this visit was different. Before, she had come as, if not a hostile power, not necessarily a friendly one; and since that time, she had killed their husbands, brothers and sons, and cruelly maimed their beloved Thief. These people had no reason to love her. Eugenides was looking up at her with a beaming light in his eyes, but the faces of the Eddisians on the street and in the guard and were blankly polite at best. She pulled her silk wrap tighter around her, and lifted her chin as they processed into the palace.

Helen looked like a dream of happiness, relaxed and golden; her dress was simple and white, with yellow-gold threads running through the bodice, an comfortable linen. Beside her, Sophos sat with his shoulders tight but a genuine smile. He hasn't yet learned what it is to be a king married to a queen.

Eddis and Attolia inclined their heads to each other, but several seconds later Attolia found herself pulled up to the royal dais by an enthusiastic Eugenides. He embraced Eddis and ruffled Sounis' hair. Irene didn't know what to do with her hands, so she patted the fabric of her dress at the front, and smiled. Helen caught her eye. "I know _that_ look," she said. She snapped her fingers. "Gen! Take your wife to your rooms," she said. "You've been travelling in the mountains all day, have a rest before dragging everyone in to stand on court attention."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Eugenides said, snapping to half-serious attention. "Our rooms are...?"

" _Your_ rooms," Eddis said.

"Oh _no_ ," Eugenides said, his face falling.

"Is she expecting to provide us separate rooms?" Attolia said as they made their way through the Eddisian palace, Eugenides leading. "She does know…?"

"Worse," he said, grimly set. "She's put us in my childhood rooms. _How_ , wife, I ask you _how_ am I supposed to get an heir in the room where I slept when I was a boy?"

Attolia started laughing in the hallway and did not stop until they reached their door.

***

The day after the queen and king left, Baron Susa summoned a small council: himself, Haplus, and the five greatest land holders in Attolia. They gathered in the north drinking room just after the sun set. The chairs were expensive, and the barons did not blink as the old servant, his head muffled from the evening air, poured their sweet wine.

"Leave us," Haplus said, and the servant nodded and backed away.

"This whim of the queen's has gone on long enough," Susa growled. "Whether she was really forced into marrying the goatfoot, I don't know and I don't care. It's been a year and a half, and she's shown no signs of repudiating him or any kind of poison whatsoever. I've gathered you here as people who love Attolia – who know that the best way to show love is to know what's best for it. Even when the queen may not know herself," he added darkly.

"We need an heir, an heir of true Attolian blood. And since we can't seem to rely on one from the queen..." Haplus unfurled a paper. "This is from our acquaintances abroad," he said proudly. "You see? We are not alone."

The other barons peered over, and read the script.

"I don't know," one said cautiously. "Would we not be throwing over one foreign ruler for another?"

"They won't be bothered with us," Susa said. "Once we've secured the throne, we can rule Attolia unbothered, without fear."

They considered this.

"But who will sit on the throne?" another finally asked.

Susa smiled. "Why, the rightful queen, of course." He pulled out a family tree. "As you can see from this hereditary map..."

Relius stood in the hallway in his servant's costume, listening. After a few moments, he had heard all he needed.

***

The first night's dinner in Eddis was not a formal welcome banquet, but a relaxed family meal, a concession to Eddis' travel-weary guests. The food was simple and good: tangy goat's cheese ("I told you," Eugenides whispered), figs and honey, a fat little lamb roasted for the occasion that morning. The servants were attentive to Eugenides' needs without drawing attention to it, serving all the plates in neatly sliced portions. Attolia was shocked at how simple the difference was, and how easy – and even more angry at her kitchens, and herself, for letting it slip for so long. Eugenides drank cupfuls of the rough red mountain wine and laughed easily, and turned to his wife and patted her on the knee.

"How are you holding up?" he asked her sincerely, and she almost laughed at the idea of _him_ asking how _she_ was doing. But of course Eddis was more his court than was Attolia; and as she watched Eugenides joke and talk with his cousins and oldest friends, she wondered whether it had really been worth it for him to leave all this.

While her husband was deep in conversation with his family, Attolia turned to Sounis. She began a light conversation about a matter in the archives – an easy topic. The boy still looked terrified, but at least he wasn't fully stupid, which was reassuring.

Sounis excused himself to speak to Eddis, and Attolia looked for her husband. Eugenides was gone. She tensed, but his laughter came from the next room, accompanied by high-pitched squealing. Attolia rose with a glass in her hand.

She followed the sound of his voice to the nursery, where she found Eugenides romping with several of the barons' children.

"Help! Help!" one of the boys cried.

"I'm the one-handed hook monster and I'm going to GET YOU!!" he roared, and the children screamed with delighted fear and dived in every direction. A small girl clung to the back of his neck and wouldn't let go.

The nursery carpet was thick, Attolia observed, looking away with a pang. Maybe that was because the mountains were colder, but maybe it was because children needed a soft place to fall – she should ask where the weaving had been done, it looked like it may have been Pentish...

"He is happy with you," Eddis said. Attolia looked up and found the queen by her side, watching Eugenides as well.

"He isn't," Attolia said. Helen was perhaps the only person in the world she could be clean with about her love and fears for Gen. "Look at him. It's here that he's – himself."

Eddis shook her head. "He is, but he's miserable without you. You make him happy. Or," she corrected herself, "at least keep him from sulking around all the time, which is possibly the same thing."

"He does that anyway," Attolia said, and they looked at each other and laughed.

Across the room, Eugenides lifted his head accusingly. "Are you talking about me?" he said.

"Yes," Attolia said, a smile nearly flickering on the corner of her mouth. She lifted her cup to her lips. Their eyes met.

The tiny girl hanging on Eugenides' shoulders let out a disappointed cry as he stood up.

"I think it's time for bed," he said.

Attolia said nothing.

"I'll just return these to the kitchen, shall I," said Eddis, who found herself holding two wine glasses and speaking to empty air.

***

Attolia looked around the room.

"Did you really sleep here?" she said. "Every night?"

"Most nights," Eugenides corrected. "When I wasn't on the roof, or on...someone else's roof."

"What did you think about?" she said, stepping out of her court slippers. She walked across the thick carpet towards him.

The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "You," he said.

She stopped.

 _Good or bad?_ she wanted to ask, but she knew the answer. "Oh," she said.

He went to her.

"Turn around," he said softly, and she did. They were nearly at the bed, and pulling back the sheets, when he said in a very different voice, "Stop."

She thought she'd hurt him; she did sometimes, although she didn't mean to; but he was looking at the bed.

A small paper was folded on the sheets. Irene recognised the writing immediately.

"That came sooner than we thought," she said.

***

Heiro didn't know what the king expected when he told the guards to let her enter the library whenever she wanted. At first she thought it was a clue. He often let little things like that drop, jokes that were really suggestions and suggestions that weren't suggestions at all. But she couldn't work out what he thought she might do. Finally Heiro decided it might be a simple kindness, like the kindness she'd shown him.

Which was really no kindness at all, she thought, hoisting herself up the ladder and looking for the shelf where the older plays were. She'd heard a street singer from Ferria do a verse that she thought she recognised from one of the ancients, but the words were different – if she could only find the – ah, there it was. Her fingers brushed the spine of the book she was looking for just as the door swung silently open, and the former Secretary of the Archives stepped into the room.

He looked around, and seemed only mildly surprised to see her there, though Heiro had told no one where she was going.

"Yes," Relius said, "I see what he meant."

***

The treaty negotations began the next morning, with the first official matter being olive tariffs. ("Save me," Eugenides whispered to his wife.) Attolia levied a seasonal tariff based on the treasury's estimate of each holding's harvest, which could be returned if the farmer could prove his harvest had been lower. Eddis took a fee based on the number of jars and barrels sold. Sounis also took a tariff based on estimated harvest, but with no refund, though next year's estimate could be adjusted down if the farmer successfully argued.

"It seems to me Attolia's is the most sensible," said the trade secretary of Attolia. "It allows landowners to adjust to their own situation, while allowing the treasury to estimate income to a reasonable degree."

Eddis was leaning forward and frowning. She whispered to Sounis.

"The Eddisian fashion is kinder to farmers," the agriculture minister said. "The expense of applying for a return can be costly to small holders, and there is no compensation for the time they are left without money while the fee is recalculated."

"We will levy indirectly," Eugenides said.

Eddis nodded. Sounis nodded. The ambassadors nodded. The scribes wrote it down. Eugenides counted in his head. One down...

"Moving on to the second matter, of rights of residence for the Braels living in dependent but non-sovereign territories..."

The day continued.

"You have to stop looking so interested," Attolia scolded her husband as they left to change for dinner. "You're supposed to be useless with figures."

"They know me better than that in Eddis," Eugenides said, looking sheepish.

"Yes, but the Attolian ambassadors don't."

***

"What who meant?" Heiro said. She stayed poised at the top of the ladder, holding onto the high shelf.

"The king said, if I needed help while he was away, I could look for it in the library." Relius rubbed his forehead. "I thought he was being clever about archival research," he said. "In fact, he was being clever about–"

"Me," Heiro said, climbing down and meeting the former spymaster face to face. They were exactly the same height. "Well – what do you need help with? I mean, what does the king –"

Relius told her.

"Goodness," Heiro said. "I'll – I'll leave a message with my sister. And get my cloak."

***

The next night's dinner was the formal welcome banquet. Attolia was resplendent in as much glory as she could summon: her heavy red dress with intricate embroidery, each panel representing a different region of Attolian agriculture. Eddis wore a rippling blue dress of fine silk, the blue and white of a mountain lake reflecting a spring sky. Sounis wore the traditionally severe cut of Sounisian black, and Attolis, the traditional Attolian robes in Eddisian colours.

"Cut from the cloth of Eddis and fashioned into a true Attolian," he said, bowing over the hand of his cousin.

"Oh, _Gen_ ," Helen said.

The many courses passed without incident, although the serving etiquette meant most of the dishes were cold before eating.

Between the main and sweets, the tables were cleared for a short course of music. Attolia's gown was too heavy for the kind of dancing she preferred, but she and Sounis led a slow southern set dance, and Eugenides took his cousin around to a light whistle tune. Attolia's attendant patted her intricate hair style back into place, and the table was rearranged for the last service.

An attendant entered from the kitchen and cleared her throat, and curtsied. "In honor of our guests," she announced.

A gasp, and applause. Two cook's assistants came in bearing a plate of delicate honey pastry – with a crowning dollop of royal jelly, from the hives. The guests continued to applaud dutifully as it was brought in, and placed between Eddis and Attolis.

Royal jelly was known to be a symbol of fruitfulness, and the king of Attolia grinned at his cousin and reached over to snap a bit off.

The servant jerked the plate out of his grasp. "The first taste belongs to the queen," she said, smiling.

"The kitchen knows it's my favourite," Eugenides said, loudly. "I hope you won't mind if I try a sample–" and he swiped a chunk with his left hand.

Attolia grabbed his hand sharply by the wrist. "That's for me," she said.

Her hand circled his, the chunk of jelly melting slightly from the warmth of his fingers.

"Catch," he said, and threw it into the air, towards his mouth.

It landed with a plop on the table.

"Oh, bother," he said. "That was going to be so dramatic."

"No acting out a tragedy on my part," Attolia said.

***

The king and queen of Attolia bowed out of the longer set of after-dinner dancing, pleading tiredness, and returned quickly to their rooms.

"What the hell was that?"

"Maybe nothing."

"Better safe than sorry."

Eugenides tapped the short message Relius had sent. "Gods damn it, I wish we had someone craftier than Teleus to rely on in the Guard at home." Attolia noted with pleasure, which she did not show, what he called "home". "All that time I spent whipping Costis into shape, we should have kept him around for a longer spell, instead of sending him off honeymooning."

"Honeymooning?" Attolia said. "I thought he was – ah. _Oh._ " She looked at her husband. "Gen! You were supposed to be neutralising a political threat, not playing matchmaker."

" _Some_ of us can do more than one thing at once," Eugenides said, sprawling on the sopha. "Ah well. It's all going a bit faster than we thought, but Relius seems confident he has things in hand, and I suppose there's no use spooking the sheep before shearing time." He patted the cushion beside him. "Now sit down and let me unpin you. _All_ of your pins."

"Showoff," Attolia said, and complied.

***

In a small room, out the back of a large barn, overlooking a watering pond, two men were hunched over a stone bowl. The taller was holding a piece of paper.

"Not so close!" the smaller man said, pushing the paper away. "Now, just add a little – "

"Like this?"

The resulting flare nearly singed both their eyebrows off.

"That will do," the taller said.

"That was just a pinch," the other said, hesitantly. "The real one will be…big."

"Too right. It needs to be big – it needs to send a message. Tell them we won't be ruled by some foreigner."

"You're right," the smaller man said, "of course you're right."

***

After a full week of negotiations, the outline of the great treaty was complete. It was a clear day, and the four monarchs proceeded from the palace down to the square, to sign the agreement to unite their kingdoms in full view of the public. This had been the king of Attolia's insistence: "The people need to see what they're getting," he joked. But now that they were gathered here, with a good sized crowd looking on in interest, Eugenides was looking distinctly pale.

The first paper was passed: formalising in writing the pledge of loyalty that Sounis had made to Attolis nearly a year ago. Then came the marriage agreement between Eddis and Sounis, in which her sovereignty was bound up with his – and both of theirs passed to the king of Attolia.

Eddis' hand was clear and clean as she signed the paper, but Eugenides' hand shook as he stamped it with the royal seal.

A rider in Attolian colors came up to the back of the square. He was carrying a pale green standard, and Attolia breathed free. A bit of tension went out of Eugenides' eyes as well. "That's Relius' job done, at least," he said, "I knew he could handle it." He waved to the crowd, taking in the rider as well.

Eddis and Sounis bowed and began to pick their way back to the palace, both looking considerably more relaxed than they had on their way to the square. As they walked up the path, Eddis picked up Sounis' hand.

"Lucky them," Eugenides said. He turned to his wife, smiling, to lead her back to the palace. "Shall we?"

Then the bomb went off.

***

The smoke was thick and everywhere, and Attolia fought to see through the haze. Gen had been about to take her hand just before it went off. Was that what they had been waiting for?

"Eugenides," she tried to say, but her throat was dry and the words could not rasp out of her mouth.

There was no wind, oddly, and the smoke was taking a long time to clear. Attolia waved a hand in front of her face and began to step carefully over the cobblestones, listening for any other movement. The square was eerily silent. There was blood on the stone in front of her, and the air smelled like burning.

She nearly tripped over the man lying in front of her. He was a young Eddisian, his hair curling, and his eyes were closed. Attolia's heart jumped. Was he breathing? She knelt beside him, and pushed the hair back from his forehead.

Suddenly Attolia became aware of a presence behind her, and swiftly stood up to face whoever it was.

It was a woman, with dark hair and a smooth face. Her dress was white and fine, and showed no trace of the black grime that was over Attolia's dress like a film. Although the woman's hem touched the ground, it was not smudged by dirt or the gore that was all over Attolia's knees.

"Greetings," Attolia said. Her back was straight and tall as a birch tree.

"A life for a life," the woman said.

"Excuse me?"

"I offer a life for a life."

Attolia stood coolly.

"Whose life," she said.

The woman said nothing.

" _Whose life?_ " Attolia said.

"A life for a – "

"No deal," Attolia snapped. "I know who you are, Moira, and I know your trickster god's ways. My foolish husband can treat with you how he likes, but I will not be drawn in. You may tell me this man has his life ahead of him, well, so have I. You may tell me he has someone at home who loves him, and who will miss the warmth of his hand on her stomach at night; so have I. I am not here to make _exchanges_."

Moira, who no mortal had seen look taken aback, blinked.

"If you want to speak to Gen you know where to find him," Attolia said, and turned on her heel, striding away towards the palace.

The dead man did not stir as the goddess departed.

 

Now the wailing started, and Attolia could tell where the wounded were.

A hand grabbed her. Attolia fought, kicking, until she heard a light voice say, "For gods' sake, wife, my balance isn't what it used to be." Attolia melted with relief.

"You," he said, wrapping his arm around her and pushing her behind him, "get inside."

"A messy way to get rid of us," Eugenides said. He was holding a piece of paper. "Do you recognise that?"

Attolia took it from his hand. "It's the seal of Sounis."

"Inverted seal," Eugenides corrected. "I'm not surprised you don't recognize it – it's the symbol of the Brothers of Sounis, a very tiny but very nasty bunch. I shouldn't have forgotten about them." He ran a hand through his hair. "They're very tetchy about anyone...different."

"Like me," Attolia said.

"And me. Today's mess might have been them."

"Or – someone wants us to think it was them."

"Like our barons." Eugenides was already putting on his cloak. "I'm riding back today."

Attolia stopped him. "I've got a better idea."

***

The messenger who brought news of the explosion travelled quickly. "Huge explosion," he gasped, "dozens wounded. Radical Sounisian separatists. The king and queen almost certainly killed."

Susa paid him a gold griffon.

"That worked out better than we could have imagined," Haplus said.

"Maybe," Susa said. He rang a bell to summon a servant. "Round up everyone in the palace and bring them to the throne room," he said. "Regent Relius' orders."

***

Less than an hour later, Susa stood just below the throne, surveying the room. The nobles were all here, curious as to what had prompted the sudden call to assemble. Servant and attendants clustered in the doorways.

"Some of you may have already heard the day's tragic news from Eddis," Susa said. He looked around to see whose faces changed. Fewer than he'd expected; his man had a good horse. "Now, where is Relius? Typical – couldn't even bother to be here – as I was saying, it is with great sadness and a deeply heavy heart that I must tell you of the unfortunate passing of our king and queen at the hands of radical madmen – "

A clear voice rang through the throne room. "Not quite yet," Attolia said, and stepped into the room.

The court gasped: even Susa took an involuntary step back.

Attolia was arrayed as Alatia Oxia, the goddess of war. Her dark hair was plaited close to the back of her head but hung in loose waves around the front, as if it had come free in battle. Instead of her usual ornate robes, the queen was wearing a simple black tunic, sleeveless and light, cut short just below the knee and leaving her arms free to draw a sword and swing it. Like the picture of Alatia in the temple, the queen wore a silver girdle around her waist – but compared with the goddess, her face was even more terrible.

No one breathed as she ascended to the throne. She passed Baron Susa without a flicker of acknowledgement, and turned to face the back of the hall.

"Teleus," she said.

The barons whirled around. The royal guard had entered the room while the court's attention was riveted on their queen, and the Captain of the Guard had a rifle pointed at Baron Susa's heart.

Attolia lifted her hand.

Teleus cocked the rifle.

In the moment before she took a breath to give the order, another clear voice sounded in the room. No one could swear to who had spoken, but it rang even more powerful and bell-like than the queen's. "A life for a life," it said. "You refused the bargain. You have no right to this man."

Attolia's face, which had already been fearsome, turned to black anger.

Baron Haplus slipped to his knees.

"Very _well_ ," Attolia said, and the court drew back; no one wanted to be in the queen's way when she looked like this. "Arrest them." Teleus' men scrambled to it. The barons did not resist, although Haplus managed a plea for mercy for his sons before the great doors slammed shut.

Attolia signalled again, this time to a trumpeter, who blew the royal fanfare. Eugenides entered from the side chamber, wearing deep purple robes and his crown, and a rather nervous expression.

The queen held her hand to him, and his face cleared. The court drew breath as the king of Attolia walked towards their queen. He reached her on the steps as she descended to him.

"Sorted?" he murmured in her ear.

"We need to have a word," she murmured back, placing her hand on his arm. "You and your gods are _ruining my reputation_."


End file.
